the coup

[groundrules]

Hello to our last Big Event of the year, covering 2-22 December and also subbing as our test drive.

Current players can play here or make separate logs & network posts. TDM tourists are confined to this playground, but can include network prompts in their top levels.

If you’re trialling a character, you can apply them until 21 December without a game invite. TDM characters can participate in the sign-up quests without taking up a slot, but cannot vote for event outcomes.

DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING?

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Taravast’s civilians take to spirited protests and seize the Palace of the Doxe. They intend to redirect Doxe Bonaccorso Spina’s attention and resources to his people, livelihoods suffered in recent undead attacks. The Merchant sends ‘help’ to oust the Doxe.

Amid the chaos, Vannozza Spina seeks to apprehend her grandfather. Her cousin Macaluso, Bonaccorso’s prisoner, can be liberated. Outgunned, outmanned and outnumbered, Bonaccorso orders the city burned down.


TDM TOURISTS | OLD TIMERS | COMMON: THE COUP | NOTES

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TDM TOURISTS: THE BARREN BONES

You wake up in shallow water, other supine bodies beside you. The nearby occupants of a desert outpost greet you with a coarse translation and communication device and introduce you to their leader, the Merchant. He rescues otherworlders who were summoned to serve as weapons for warring undead factions, sending them east — where forgotten beacons can return them home.

A. A FRIEND IN NEED

Unconscious new arrivals are delivered every few days, recovered from the dunes. They are submerged in oasis waters. Some characters wake weaker of body and mind, struggling to focus their thoughts or their supernatural abilities — effects that recede within one-three days. Others are plagued by a drowning sensation for one-two days.

■ Help fellow newcomers as they regain their strength with sparring, a calming voice or a warm meal.

■ Newcomers must share tents and carry out camp tasks: hold the night watch, man fires, kill viper nests and excessively large scorpions or, fate help everyone if you’re related to Xie Lian, cooking.

B. A FRIEND IN DEED

Soon enough, the Merchant reveals more otherworlders are assigned in the nearby magical citadel of Taravast, which is on the brink of civil uprising against the ruling Doxe Bonaccorso Spina. Your fellows need you, cavalry.

The Merchant sends the fresh conscripts on a three-day journey to Taravast across a desert canyon, granting supplies, horses or seats in shared carts.

■ Fresh horses wait at specific landmarks, but some suppliers trade steeds for the better coin of rich merchants evacuating Taravast. If you end up stranded, find help.

■ Weather forecast: frequent, cruel sand storms that challenge even expert riders. Collect anyone who gets lost in the dunes — particularly near wild cougars.

■ Some Taravast refugees crowd or pretend accidents to loot your horses. A select few diplomatic convoys offer assistance, or try to confiscate your rides.

» THE LOUD CROWD

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OLD TIMERS: THE STREETS, RALLYING

Dissenting necromancers, healers and civilians begrudge Doxe Bonaccorso’s failure to ensure their safety and distribute repairs funds fairly. Many believe that Bonaccorso has been manipulated by Macaluso and Vannozza.

The initially peaceful protests exacerbate into after several days: demonstrators frequently come to blows with city guards around the 20:00 evening curfew. Protesters carry sharp and blunt weapons, small explosive talismans or banners. Some are ghost-summoning necromancers, others are sorcerers who command a small array of elemental spells.

■ Protesters try to enthusiastically conscript passers-by to their cause. Some assume characters leaving the Doxe Palace are nobility and try to kidnap and ransom them for an audience with Bonaccorso.

■ Merchants and the last few of Macaluso’s foreign suitors begin their exodus from Taravast and ask you to serve as escort in exchange for compensation.

■ Palace guards retaliate with disproportionate violence when they catch crowds without magic users or experienced combatants. Rescue some demonstrators — but prepare to run — or scout the streets so they can escape.

■ The clashes separate some Taravast residents from food, commodities and healers. Be a friend.

■ In rare good news, protesters share with Wrathion and Slick their battle and coordination signs and passcodes.

■ Some crowd contingents are less spirited about this endeavour — try talking them out of this revolution business.

■ Characters without powers or weapons can resort to the arsenal Wrench and Aang recovered from looters: daggers, maces, swords, bows and five-six man-sized water serpents, who heed those who first summon them out of their Poke balls.

» » THE BANNER MUST ADVANCE

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ALL TOGETHER NOW: THE BARRICADES

Within a week of the first demonstrations, the protesters and Doxe Bonaccorso’s guards have devolved into vicious and regular violence. Civilian demonstrators have been joined by many necromancers wielding fresh corpses, minor sorcerers, healers and a handful of expert combatants, assigned by sympathetic gentry. Bonaccorso’s men conduct regular inspections and arrests. The demonstrators meanwhile set traps of magical ice and explosives.

Led by the lawyer Giacomo Zanardo and the healer Sebastiano Bianchi, the mob seeks to storm the Palace of the Doxe and persuade Bonaccorso back to his senses, which have surely been corrupted by his absent nephew Macaluso and niece Vannozza.

RISE ONE, RISE ALL

Existing characters are soon joined by fresh reinforcements. Everyone receives the Merchant’s transmission:

”It has emerged, vocally, that Doxe Bonaccorso Spina no longer serves the interests of his city, his people or our contingent. The most efficient recourse is to depose him. How, and whether you choose to instate one of his successors, is of no consequence to me. I send a wave of our new otherworldly associates to assist you. Fair fortune.”

■ Zanardo and Bianchi organise a last bout of midnight merrymaking before the Palace attack at dawns. Meet your reinforcements at a… large, cold, rudimentarily decorated warehouse in one of Taravast’s dodgiest district. Close your eyes and smell the salted fish.

■ Old and new characters can collect further plain weapons from rioters. Slick receives command of five NPC protesters.

■ Pacifists can scout the Palace of the Doxe to report back the watch patterns, or try to persuade servants to open the gates.

■ Come dawns, protesters seize the Palace, meeting fresh waves of Bonaccorso’s guards in the gardens before advancing inside.

■ The Merchant informs Eleven and Shen Qingqiu they are required back in Taravast. He cuts a deal with local warlord Anurr, who supplies two transporters orbs that will transport the duo immediately.

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PARALLEL QUESTS (OPEN TO ALL)

Because of overlapping timelines, your character can only be signed up for one of the three following missions. Each quest will be capped at 15 characters: first come, first served. You can vote on game polls irrespective of what mission your character pursues.

NOTE: TDM tourists can participate in the quests and do not need to sign up. They can include prompts for one of the parallel quests in their top-level prompts, or can tag around. However, TDM tourists don't qualify for the NPC RNG draw and cannot vote on Bonaccorso's fate.


A. LET IT BUUUUUURN, LET IT BURN

Counting the last hours of his reign, Doxe Bonaccorso Spina takes to the great balcony of his Palace to address the masses:

”My people, my loved ones. Twenty-two years ago, I came before you, a man ruined: my son and my daughter taken from me. Is there any pain greater than burying your children? Only today: to see the blood of your blood and the blood of your nation, united against you. To know your nephew made weapon of a blade and your niece of her gold, and your people are indiscriminate in their arsenal. You tear down my doors, sirs! You bloody my halls! And when you stand against your Doxe, you stand against Taravast. And why? Because I turned my eye from you for scant moments. Spoiled! Shameless! All I ever intended were more years in your service. For we must strike a permanent truce with the dead. To survive. Know that even now, I see you: you are strong, gifted, beautiful. How it breaks my heart to know I must bury my children again.”
After this, Bonaccorso orders the 20 court witches of Bessis currently at the Palace rain down fire from the northern and southern towers, unto the masses.

■ Current Bessis leader Margherita Moretti is instructed to call her sister witches to Taravast’s greater walls, where they might direct further fire upon all who oppose Bonaccorso.

■ Ten witches will climb each Palace tower, targeting protesters. Sign up and discuss how characters can slip the witches sleeping herbs with their water, kill them, feign fresh orders from Moretti, etc.

■ The witches of Bessis have historically received the patronage of the imprisoned Macaluso. Many recently retreated from court, embittered by Bonaccorso’s support for the rival Attaryl. Moretti is reasonable, if loyal, and possesses a conscience. She rides out to bring further Bessis assistance.

■ Team up, pursue and capture Moretti down the chaotic streets of Taravast. Two characters — chosen on 10 December through RNG draw from the signed-up crew — can participate in a NPC thread to talk her down.

B. OFF WITH THE OLD MAN’S HEAD

Informed by Wrath and Wen Qing’s faction that her grandfather prepared to possess her body, Vannozza Spina moves to apprehend Bonaccorso.

Following his speech, the Doxe holes up in his quarters, guarded by several dozen Attaryl witches — masters of illusions, telekinesis and mind control. They will try to briefly steal or dim characters’ senses, thrall them into seeing their allies as enemies and crumble walls and statues upon them. The witches are easily defeated through physical means.

■ Characters can charge in militarily or infiltrate by presenting as palace staff or Attaryl reinforcements. Those who previously assisted servants can receive spare uniforms and directions. Sign up here.

■ In-game characters can vote until 15 December to decide Bonaccorso’s fate. Two characters drawn via RNG can share a NPC thread for a short discussion with him. Wen Qing and Wrath can optionally have a separate talk thread, given their participation in Vannozza’s plotline.

C. SAVE THE HIMBO, SAVE THE WORLD

Macaluso Spina’s attempt to persuade his Doxe grandfather of the merits of retirement condemned him to house arrest, awaiting trial on charges of assassination. He is secluded in his wing of the Palace of the Doxe, guarded by two dozens of Bonaccorso’s men and by illusion traps devised by Attaryl witches.

Characters can hear footsteps, men giving chase, the muffled voices of Macaluso or their companions, all unseen. A mirrored hall leads you back to its beginning, as your reflection mocks you — until you break a mirror.

■ Characters who have helped Palace servants can receive tips on guard numbers and locations, or corridor shortcuts.

■ Sign up here. Two characters picked via RNG draw on 10 December can share a NPC thread to discuss Macaluso’s next steps. Alina Starkov can have an optional separate thread, for her involvement in Macaluso’s plot so far.

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QUESTIONS

TEST DRIVERS

OLD TIMERS

Comments

F.

[downswing]

( But for the telltale novelty and freshness of his communication device, the young man spotted at the previous night's gathering might have passed for a local. Indifferent in the way of the youth, who think themselves born blunted of interest in all but that which cuts or braids the red of their own, private fate string.

Here, today, Lan Wangji knows the man's whites before his face — sees flame in flight, the shape amorphous and betraying none of the pleasantly artificial roundness of a forged projectile. Sees the emptied road, already battered by the hooves of galloping guardsmen and the tireless feet of market makers, and the crowds, the surging, thoughtless horde. Sees them all withdraw, like rats fearing their drowning, when the flame strikes, engulfs land —

...and hits baubles. If not for the young man's protest, Lan Wangji might have suspected a simple accident, that his new comrade-in-arms should find himself beside a cart straining with the glistened fill of cheap, clinking wares. But then, the man protests, and Wangji... remembers, suddenly, that the grit of his teeth is a painful thing, it locks his jaws. Continues all the same, strain bleeding into the hardened grip of his hand, when he aims to catch the young man's arm and rush him away from the shiny stationary target that is his cart. )

...this was your guise to infiltrate?

( Lie, sir. Do not reveal your mercantile interests. Consider more diplomatic options, such as pretending actual human value within the scope of this assignment. )

[xinmoline]

[ Sword cultivators keep a protective aura about their bodies at all times, and so when Yan Zhengming feels a jerk on his arm, that aura automatically strengthens and expands explosively outwards. It may or may not be sufficient to throw off a cultivator of this man's ability; it does however have the happy effect of repelling any further flaming projectiles from himself and his immediate vicinity.

He turns back to his well-intentioned (?) companion and snaps: ]

Who's infiltrating? That's my cart!

[ With a wave of his hand, he puts the flames out. Sadly, most of his wares are charred or broken. The cart itself is a dead loss: its burned timbers shiver once and collapse. Yan Zhengming springs back, out of the way, wrinkling his nose at the mess. ]

I would have only had to do this a few times, then word of mouth would have spread and I'd have had a nice—

[ It's at this moment he realizes that there's general pandemonium all around him. ]

Wait, what the hell? What's going on here?

[downswing]

( Destruction. Chaos. The incremental and unapologetic erosion of a society, from its lowest echelons to tyrannical leadership. Pure, punitive cruelty masqueraded as discipline. The abuses of an old man's lingered power that spills between hungering fingertips like sun-baked sand.

Or, as Lan Wangji aptly summarises it: )

Fire.

( But this, between hisses, from the choice distance of a reluctant few steps back — unexpected, the aural offensive did not so much nudge him back, but propel him, toss belatedly broken by a final fumble to secure his footing. He eases onto his back leg, searching the arm, where pure crystalline energy struck first, for blood injury; none, though the electric scorching of Wangji's qi at battle with foreign strength suggests bruising will erupt later. Friction.

Earned: a cultivator of any learning does not simply extend his hand. Perhaps in this, Lan Wangji assumed too much collaboration. A troubling thing, an infection of Wei Ying's habits. A better man would not begrudge instinctive retaliation.

When fire plops down freshly and tickles a set of three cups into fine ceramic ash, Lan Wangji persuades himself he feels no inkling of personal satisfaction. )

The palace response to public demands.

( Literal fire and apparent brimstone. )

[xinmoline]

[ He stares up at the towers, in disbelief at what he's seeing. Rebellion is punishable by death of a person's entire family, to the ninth generation, he's well aware of this, but that's usually confined to the ringleaders. Indiscriminate public slaughter of common people, via a means so agonizing as fire, is barbaric in the extreme.

He glances back at the man, takes in his pleasing features, as well as the fact that he seems to be at least slightly injured (he doesn't actually connect that he was the one doing the injuring; his actions had been reflexive), and makes a quick decision. ]

So why are you just standing here, come on!

[ And now he is going to reach for your wrist, stranger, and try to pull you towards cover. ]

[downswing]

( There is discipline in this: in allowing, for the sake of expediency, a touch both swaddled in contempt and earlier denied. He means to say, I too could burn you, but only eases his arm slack in the man's hold, follows like river's flows. The crowds do not part for them — Wangji's sword, still fettered, does not attract the same horror or sympathy as it might brandished.

Still, men in their whites command a wide berth for their audacity. Lan Wangji barely recalls, blitzing by, to capture the smallest trinket of folded paper, delicate and pretty in a loosely bound hand. Sizhui takes gifts of meandering, silly things of the road.

Here, the roads cleave and fork. Wangji remembers, distantly, to tug back. )

You know your path?

( Or are they only... running for the sake of the exercise? )

[xinmoline]

[ At the tug on his arm he stops and lets go of the man. ]

Path? I'm just getting you away from the fire.

[ He takes a moment to fix his sleeves and straighten his robes. ]

Speaking of which, that fire's going to spread. Are they truly trying to burn the whole city down? At the very least, we should save the beacon, if it even exists.

[downswing]

( Ah. He... knows nothing, then. Tugged and pulled for the sake of habit or play, or the tempestuous impulse that so often contrives to seize Wei Ying — as if the world's belly must split in the young man's path and reveal to him its deepest secrets. As if he is owed the success of a rescue, because he has made the attempt.

...perhaps there is bitterness there, when Lan Wangji trails two fingers down to smoothen the span of his own silks, correcting the lines of his robes, as if they are not stranded in the middle of a burning street, addressing petty indiscretions. More filth cakes his boot soles than many a piglet must bathe in, ash and burning sharpen then shatter his sense of scent. There is no saving the pretense of their dignity, but Lan Wangji seems... intent to try. )

It exists. ( The beacon has been witnessed, if never woken. And are they not in their right to wonder if it can even blink alive? So many lies have been spun to suffocate them, gossamer thread stealing his breath. ) They do not think as far as harm to the citadel. Only unto each other.

( This, then, is the danger of a maddened crowd: the bone-deep, arrogant dismissal of foresight. )

[xinmoline]

Huh! Idiots!

[ He frowns, pressing his lips together. Then he turns to his companion and looks him up and down. He has the aura of a cultivator, so... ]

Do you know where it is? Have you reached "concretion" stage?

[downswing]

I have reached the stage of disdaining fools.

( And of distrusting strangers, of recalling his cautions. There's a cut to the gaze of a man who looks upon Lan Wangji and suspects cultivation, who inquires as if his birthright is to seize and know. Wangji will not sit idle and watch the greened world of his festered wounds spume, before he questions if the blade held poison.

They are companions in this, 'collaborators.' Survival suits them without confession, without revelation. Rubble hisses and snarls when he hastens their step, walls coughing down debris. Farther out, a father breaks the bones of guardsmen who laid idle, unflinching hands on his son.

They cannot dawdle. )

I can return you to the palace. No farther. ( The truth, acidic: ) I fight for their cause.